Fight for it
by Lady Radagast
Summary: What happened last night? Bob Richards couldn't remember...


**Fight for it**

"It's okay… It's only pain…" he thought.

Bob couldn't remember how he ended up in that strange room. For starters he was drunk; extremely drunk. And he knew it.

He was on all fours, on hands and knees, with his face next to the ground. His breathing was heavy, and he was sweating. The drops formed a puddle of sweat and blood under his face.

Yes, blood. He was wounded. He'd received some blows to the head, but it wasn't that pain that bothered him.

A big hand was resting on his back and other hand was holding his hips. Yes, it was that part of his body that was in pain. And cold since his buttocks were bare and the bedroom window was wide open.

Behind him a man, also wounded and gasping, was holding him firmly. The fat man could feel something hard slamming inside him.

Bob was being raped.

He could feel the thrusts the man stabs deep into his body. Despite the pain Bob could not deny that he was feeling pleasure; probably because the man behind him was hitting in the right spot. But… who was that man?

Bob turned his head, trying to see who was raping him. He could not remember and couldn't identify the perpetrator. And most curious… he didn't want to escape from him. The room was dark and only a dim light from outside illuminated the environment. But he could see the silhouette of the man. A tall, broad-shouldered man with curly hair.

"Ah … ah …!" The guy behind him should have been arriving at the climax, as his thrusts getting faster and stronger. Bob could also feel that he was almost there and stretched out his hand to hold his cock. He was really enjoying it.

Wait... no. Bob was not being raped.

Now he could remember. Bob agreed to this. Somehow.

He was in a pub shortly after helping the police to arrest a gang of drug dealers. He was spending the reward money on drinks until he saw someone he knew. A fighter who was drinking alone.

Bob approached the man and the two began to talk. It seemed that the fighter was quite depressed for some reason. After two hours and several bottles they were both laughing. That's when Bob said he was invincible and made a bet. The fighter could not knock him down. At first he bet some dollars, but his opponent had no money. That's when the fighter made a suggestion:

"If you beat me, you can fuck me."

Despite being straight, Bob accepted the deal and made the same offer. Certainly not occurred to him that he could lose.

"Ah! Si! Me dá tu culo … si … Hijo de puta! Ah …!"

The man was cursing in Spanish. Bob finally remembered…

His name was Miguel.

A car with the headlights on crossed the street and the light illuminated the room briefly. Bob looked up and could see Miguel's face at that moment. The Spaniard had blood on his nose. Probably... yes. Fight injuries. Now Bob remembered it. There was a fight. He was winning it, but he lost because he had to stop for a moment to vomit. The fat man received some punches on the head and fell down.

Then Miguel tried to fuck him right there in the back of the pub, but Bob still had the presence of mind to convince him to go to a hotel room. No sooner had they entered than the Spaniard removed his pants and put the American on his hands and knees.

Bob had never had sex with another man but immediately got a boner when Miguel started licking his ass, penetrating it with his tongue. Then, with hardly enough time for Bob to adjust himself, Miguel thrusted hard.

Panting and moaning, the fat man rocked his hips to meet each thrust.

"Ro… ah… ah!" Miguel cried. "RobERTO!"

Bob felt his release. His muscles clenched and he followed him down.

With a long sigh, the Spaniard crashed in the floor next to the American. Both were breathless. They stared at each other for a moment, with only the light from the window to illuminate them. Miguel smiled and unbuttoned his shirt, getting totally naked next to Bob. He was not drunk anymore. He was fully aware of what he was doing. With a tug, he pulled Bob's pants down to his knees. And then he began to take off the fat man's shirt.

"Wait …" Bob held Miguel's hands. "Again?"

"Huh? You do not want?"

"I… uh…" Bob paused. "Well… I'm straight."

The Spaniard's eyes widened.

"What?! Then why did you let me fuck you?!"

"I lost the fight …"

"Ah! Hah!" Miguel laughed. "Santa madre, if you had warned me I wouldn't have done it! I …" The tone of his voice became more serious. "… I didn't want to rape you."

"Well, technically it was not a rape … I let you fuck me."

Michael shook his head.

"You are a strange man. But has a hot ass!"

"Thanks … I guess." Bob snickered.

"Well, then … you do not want to have sex again?"

"I'd better not."

"Even if I let you fuck me this time?"

"Leave it for our next fight… if I win!"

Miguel laughed. He helped Bob to go to the bed, then kissed him on his forehead and turned to the other side.

"Buenas noches," he said, yawning.

"Buenas …" Bob said.

Turning to the other side, Bob decided to get some sleep. Or at least try.

"The next fight I'll win!" He thought, trying to ignore the beautiful, hairy and tanned ass next to him.

…


End file.
